


Lust and Sugary Shots

by AnAlbanyExpression



Category: Let's Play (Webcomic)
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Drinking, Drunk Texting, Drunken Flirting, F/M, Friendship, House Party, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAlbanyExpression/pseuds/AnAlbanyExpression
Summary: I mean yeah, of course it was a blast. Monica is practically incapable of throwing a lame house party. Granted, it's also difficult as the host to ensure that everything runs smoothly.
Relationships: Charles Jones/Sam Young (Let's Play)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 72





	Lust and Sugary Shots

Samara's POV 

Huh. Well, what do you know? It's funny, because I could've sworn I only had eight fingers. However, low and behold, there be ten. Twiddling before my eyes. I don't know, I probably just miscounted. Everything does look kinda fuzzy right now. 

Why on Earth would I have ten, did I just sprout two without noticing? Yeah, probably. I feel myself frown at that, overcome with a newfound insecurity. Clenching my hands into fists and burying them beneath my thighs, I shiver. Does this make me a freak? Oh my God, am I gonna have to wear mittens for the rest of my life? Should I go to a doctor?

I was interrupted mid panic by a hand upon my shoulder, turning to find Monica once more. Pulling me back to the present energetic setting and away from...well, whatever the Hell I was thinking about just now? I can't remember. I chuckle as I meet her eyes, suddenly feeling like everything is very, _very_ funny. 

"Hi, Monica!" I giggle, gripping her fingers upon my flesh with a gleeful little bounce in my seat. The couch beneath me feeling even cozier as it worked to support my weight. My heart grows a little fonder at that, because how could it not? Cushion is being so selfless for everybody, all of the time. I smile down at him, breaking eye contact with my friend and moving my thighs to a diagonal with a sigh. "Thank you, cushion." I say, letting all of my gratitude flood into those words, wanting him to understand how wholeheartedly I appreciate his service. He's such a champ.

I could hear Monica laugh, which honestly ticked me off a little. She _owns_ cushion, and she thinks thanking him for his hard, honest work is so amusing? She's the last person I would expect to mistreat her employees. Honestly, if the room would quit spinning so much, I'd make it a point to _literally_ stand up for him. With how dizzying the task would prove to be, however, I had to settle for a glare. Narrowing my eyes and preparing to meet the blue of her own with bloody, protective daggers. That is, until my blurred sights caught on what she was carrying in the hand that wasn't resting atop my skin.

A circular tray dotted with familiar little shot glasses, each one individually harboring its own mountain of whipped cream. My mouth watered at the sight, compelling me to turn my entire body in order to face her. Arms splaying atop the back of the couch, I sat on my knees, fixing her with my eager gaze amidst the conversational hum of my fellow party goers. Okay, all is forgiven.

"I came to offer you another blowjob, though by the look of things, I'm afraid you may have reached your limit." She cooed, walking to the front of the couch in order to set the miniature drinks on the coffee table. My head followed her movements the whole way around, until it couldn't go any further. The pain in my neck cluing me into the fact that I was incapable of turning a complete 180. I swear, I could do that just the other day! What is _up_ with me tonight?

"I didn't- _hic_ -drink that much." I defended, voice coming out a bit louder than I had originally intended. Though, I'd be the last to complain. After all, what if she didn't hear me? Who's to say that what I intended wasn't far too quiet? I should learn to trust my voice's decisions, whatever she does with her life is her business. Who the Hell put me in charge? And, anyway, it's always better to be safe than sorry.

Monica smirked, resting her cheek upon a hand, elbow braced against the couch beside her form which turned to face mine entirely. My head sank as she stared me down, dejected. Chin plopping onto my upper arm, I moaned a little. Relieved to discover how much more comfortable I am with something aside from my neck supporting the weight of my head. Speaking of which, my noggin feels really _really_ heavy all of a sudden. 

"Here, you'll give yourself all kinds of cramps if you lay like that." She chuckled. I was more than a little startled to feel her hand upon my waist, the other wrapping around my forearm and lifting it to settle behind her neck. I gasped, before releasing a snort of a laugh in its wake. "When did you ssstand up?" I queried, letting her guide me to my feet once more with a gentle pull. "You're _fast,_ I didn't even notice!" She shrugged, seemingly just as perplexed as I was. I couldn't blame her.

It was a reasonable phenomenon to question. One minute, she was selfishly withholding the delicious shots of liquor that she's so graciously brought me to adore, and the next she's managed to straighten in this absolute carousel of a living room. Honestly, this room needs to _chill_ _out._

I whimper a little, leaning against her as I'm left with no choice but to trust that wherever she's guiding me is better than this environment. Particularly, not rotating. That would be fantastic. Superb. Picturesque.

"Immaculate." I spoke, thoughtfully testing the word on my tongue. "Hm?"

"Nah," I chortled, clumsily turning a very _rude_ corner with Monica electing as my support system. "Immaculate doesn't sound as good as fantastic. None uh those words did." I finish, glaring back at the aforementioned turn with a _hmph!_ Try and trip me, corner. That's why you don't have a friend to help you get around...you. I smirked at my little comeback. _Got 'em_.

"Ah, you're right Kiddo." Monica agreed, satisfying my previous critique of the word "immaculate" when compared to its possible replacements in...what was it?

"Heyyyy," I whisper, noticing how weirdly quiet it got all of a sudden. Careful as not to intrude, in case talking isn't allowed in our mystery location. I wouldn't want to be inconsiderate. Sorry, voice. It's time I take the reins once more.

"Yeah?"

"Where are we going?" I hushed against her ear. Well, I went for her ear. I think I might've missed a little, though. My lips meeting something that felt suspiciously cheek-like in their attempts to steer my inquisitive words towards her notice. I puckered them a bit, just to be sure. _Damn._ Totally missed.

"That's not your ear!" I teased, totally forgetting to be quiet as my body felt overcome with unadulterated humor. I'm sure the room felt it too, and would ultimately understand in time. If it's gonna be so funny, perhaps it shouldn't mandate silence! Unless this is some sort of test. Either way, I let myself get lost in a fit of amused tittering, unable to keep it all the way in. I don't know what, but something is _definitely_ hilarious in here.

Monica must have some notion of what it is, her shoulders shaking a little against my arm. And, I honestly just couldn't help but hug her. I mean, duh, right? Obviously, I hugged her. I _had_ to. 

Lifting my free arm, I gave my friend the tightest, most awesome side hug I could manage. Nuzzling my forehead against her jaw, I made quick work of turning my _irrationally_ heavy body to face hers, deciding in a rush that a side hug simply wasn't good enough. I was overjoyed to discover that she must've needed to hug me too, since her arms snaked around my middle within the second. Shocking me once more with her unmatched capacity for speed. Jumping June Jitterbugs, she's quick!

"Kiddo, you're gonna rest here for a minute, okay? The party's almost over, and you looked super overwhelmed out there. It'll do you some good to take a break, yeah?" She pet my back as she spoke, making my face feel hot with what I assumed was another blush, leaving me to recall the backless dress I was currently wearing. _I feel pretty._

"Hmm." I hummed, nodding as I acknowledged myself being led a few steps backwards. And, I continued to nod, even when Monica helped me to sit in a particularly plush office chair. Just to make sure she got the picture, I lifted a weighted hand and gave her a good ol' thumbs up, clarifying with absolutely _zero_ doubt that I totally understood what she was laying down. She smiled, returning the gesture before reaching into her cleavage.

"Here's your phone. Call me if you need anything, alright? I'm gonna go snag you some pizza." She informed, attempting to coax the device into my limp palm. It was a tricky task to maneuver, I'll admit, though I eventually managed to accept my cell with undeniable grace and poise. Not to brag, or anything. But, I killed that.

She turned, granting me one last smile before shutting the door with a timid click. "She's such a cool friend," I mused. Staring at the ceiling, I spun around a few times in my seat, hand clutching the phone with a vice like grip. Huh. What do you know? Now, I kinda wish things would spin a little more. Sighing, my head rolled to the side, hand coming to the fateful decision that it was high time for me to put my trusty little device to work. Not that I don't appreciate room's company, he just comes off like a dreadfully dull conversationalist. 

Lifting the screen to park before my hooded gaze, I rallied through the contacts. Knowing my phone is _way_ too out of sorts to try my hand at playing any games. Seriously? What the Hell is wrong with the display? There's two of everything! Monica's boob must've pressed something weird.

I chuckled, considering the options as they came. I don't really _need_ anything, so there's no use in calling Monica. Granted, there's no _use_ in calling anybody at the moment. Except, I kinda have to. Like, if there was ever a time to call somebody, it was _right now_. But, who?

Grumbling, I grew kinda frustrated with the selection. Not that they aren't all good options, they just aren't _it._ I scowled, almost giving up until I glared at a more promising prospect. Reading the name over a couple times, I nodded. Yep, I need to call Charles. Right now.

Except, do I need to call him, or do I need to _text_ him? Ah, see, that's the question. Decisions like these can make or break an interaction, after all. I'd ask what the room thinks, but again, he doesn't seem like a very talkative guy. Rats, I guess I'm alone on this one.

My deep, critical contemplation was jarringly intruded upon by Monica's return, the _wonderful_ smell of food accompanying her presence. Mmm, when was the last time I ate something?

"Pepperoni's okay, right? Weirdly enough, it's all that's left." 

I nodded for what felt like the millionth time tonight. Honestly, I might end up with vertigo come tomorrow morning. Maybe that's what I should call, or text, Charles about. He should know that I might need to stay home. But like, I don't want to bum him out or anything.

Accepting the plate as she offered it, I wasted absolutely no time. Trying to impress the speedster herself with my haste, I took a huge bite in what felt like a millisecond, groaning at the flavors that erupted and danced about my tongue. "Careful, Kiddo. Pace yourself." She advised, placing a tall glass of what I assumed to be vodka upon Marshall's desk. I grimaced at the alcohol, a little hurt to find how quickly she's forgotten my distaste for the beverage in question. 

"I know, I'm not big on drinking water by itself either." She empathized, plaguing me with understanding as she addressed the drink to which I beheld with such scrutiny before. I slammed a palm to my forehead, abandoning the remaining crust of a pizza slice in my lap. Aaaahh, it was _water._ Monica can be such a trickster sometimes.

"Ooh, you got me." I relented with a snort, leaning towards the glass and lifting it for a satisfying sip. She shook her head, small smile forming upon her pouty, red lips. I swallowed the _water_ in an instant, turning to her with an excited noise in my throat. "You are so pretty, Monica!" I forced through my gulp, hugging myself as I observed her feminine features. She giggled at my compliment, inspiring my feet to kick, anticipating jovial banter as it came to me.

"You make _me_ pretty!" I exclaimed, gesturing at my purple, foreignly tight party dress in a flourish. Not sure of my arm's movements, though certain that they had to have gotten their point across. She shook her head, cutting off my little chortling breaths with her words.

"You've always been pretty, Sam." She assured, standing up once more and crossing the distance between us. Kneeling before me, she planted her forehead against mine. "All I did was help you see it."

My face crumpled, and God damnit, you best believe I hugged her again. Sniffling, I flung my arms around that regal little neck of hers, letting Monica hold me as I did her. Because, out of nowhere, I was crying. Couldn't tell you why, or how uncomfortable it might've made the socially awkward room in which we sat. I can say that _this_ environment, however, was _immaculate._

I stayed like that for a minute, being cradled in her embrace. Monica patiently mumbling words of comfort to my sobbing form. It wasn't until a moment later, when crying ultimately became kind of boring. Suddenly, I pulled back, remembering that I had someone who I _needed_ to get in contact with. Pronto. 

Her grin was soft as she gazed up at me, reaching to wipe away the tears that I'd already forgotten about at this juncture. Sighing, she picked the pizza crust up from my thighs and set it on the plate, towing away both items as she returned to the outside. Okay, _now's_ the time to speak with him. Only, it seems like such a lame _waste_ to do it over the phone. I'm up, and I look great! Might as well talk in person, amirite? I looked around, left to assume that the room was in agreement with my decision, for he gave no response aside from his predictable quietude. Man, this dude's hard to read.

I flushed a little, my face and tummy brandished by an all consuming heat upon pulling up his name on my phone, once more. Breath growing mysteriously laboured as I formulated a text, not trusting my rebellious little voice well enough for a phone call at the moment. Lust busied itself, running hot, needy palms down every inch of my skin with the mere thought of contacting him this late. _Oohh,_ the things this man does to my body.

I trembled, groping my breast through the single layer of silk that hid it away from the open air. The things I _want_ him to do.

  
MY(11:57): You should come over. Now.

  
Yes. That will most _definitely_ get the point across. After all, I'm not playing games. Or at least, my games. Right now, I would _love_ to engage in his variation or style of playtime. However he'll entertain us, this is me offering him the sexy, proverbial wheel. I smirk, biting a lip to stifle my whimpers. Fingers that I fantasized to be Charles' teasing circles around a pointedly erect nipple. 

_Take me for a ride, Jones._

***

CJ(12:01): Why, Is everything okay?

CJ(12:02): Miss Young?

CJ(12:06): I'll be there as soon as I can.

  
"Mmmhm!" I moan, slapping a palm over my mouth and blessing the decision to keep my phone on vibrate while Monica had it in her possession. I mean, I could always check the notifications later, right? At the moment, I was too busy letting myself marvel in the sensation of resting its erratic buzzing atop my crotch, shocked that I never bothered trying this before. Jeez, what a waste of horned up adolescence.

Granted, the relief was short lived, for every vibration hardly lasted three seconds. If anything, my phone's ministrations only made the ache in my core more nagging, and irritated. Either way, all of these feelings and reactions felt _so_ right. Despite my pleasure, I thought it best to quit with the torture and put my pesky little phone on silent, not wanting to give it the wrong idea. Upon doing so, however, I took note of the latest message scrawled across the screen with a blink. Smirking, I gave myself a quintessential pat on the back. He'll be here.

I sigh, getting a little uncomfortable at the sweat that dotted my flesh. "Room, you're an okay guy, but you're stuffy as Hell." I reprimanded, pointing a finger at the wall as I stood on wobbly legs. Stilling myself, I looked at my freakish hands once more, deciding to abandon this setting in spite of my less than adequate vision. Even if I was seeing double, staying definitely wasn't an option with the threat of a heat stroke underway.

"Bye, bishhh" I slurred, a little forlorn to bid room goodbye, even if he can be kinda standoffish and aloof. He's still my buddy. "See you later!" I reassured, needing him to know that this wasn't forever. I'd come back, and next time, I might even get a hello.

Cramming my phone into my own cleavage, I devised an escape. Sure, opening doors might look super easy in movies, but trust me. That shit can get complicated. Luckily, I have a couple years under my belt, so I managed with minimal errors. Aside from turning the knob the wrong way and closing the door again a couple times, my exit was swift and deathly serious. Anyone who may have witnessed it would have said as much, I'm sure. Maybe room, though I'd be impressed if _anyone_ could get a peep of feedback out of him.

" _Monicaaaaa…"_ I called into the hallway, overwhelmed to find the length of it as something far more daunting than I'd anticipated. Stilling myself against the wall to my left, things looked as if they were beginning to tilt once more. I groaned in annoyance, frustrated with this God forsaken apartment. "It'd be great if you could stay in focus." I snapped, turning my gaze towards the kitchen/bedroom, body never abandoning its contact with the aforementioned wall. Lord, I've met some disagreeable characters tonight. 

"Sam? I'm in here!" Monica responded, sounding as if she was hiding away in the kitchen. I giggled at the thought. She should've told me we were playing hide and seek, I didn't even count!

"You've- _hic-_ been gone for like, six hours." I complained, scanning the room to find her throwing away a collection of multicolored solo cups. It couldn't have been any shorter a time than that. If anything, I probably underestimated the span of her absence, for real.

"Ah, try thirty minutes." She corrected, walking up to take hold of my arm once more. Pulling my leg, like she does. _Pft._ Thirty minutes, _right._ Like I was born yesterday.

"You- _hic_ -are one _tricky_ Flash." I quipped, seductively lifting my free arm to rest against the entryway. Damn, I'm on a roll tonight. I can't wait for Charles to get here, he'll be no match for this newfound wit of mine. I'm on _fire._

Monica guided me onto the empty mattress, despite my feet's petulant protests along the way. Honestly, guys, can you _please_ cooperate?

"Get with the program!" I exclaimed, scolding my dogs for making my friend's efforts more difficult than they need to be. Meeting Monica's beautiful, blue irises once more, I tented my brow in apology. "Sorry 'bout them. They're usually better be- _hic-_ aved." Wow, first my dad, then my brother. Now, my own feet? God, sometimes it feels as if everyone in my life makes it a point to embarrass me.

Her cute little smile lines greeted me beneath those eyes again, the corners of her lips curved upwards in a fashion that was _so_ like my mom's. "Think nothing of it, Kiddo." She soothed, tucking a rebellious curl behind my ear. I grabbed it as she turned and dangled the piece before my eyes, incredulous. Well, I _never_. Who told you to fall away from the rest of my hair? 

"The last guest left a minute ago, and Marshall ran out to grab some snacks. We're gonna watch movies, if you wanna stay the night." She spoke to me over the familiar sound of a running faucet, inspiring my cheeks to grow rosey once more at the mention of plans for tonight. I lifted my knuckles to rest against my lips, giggling like a lovesick teenager.

"Can't. I'm busy." The water stopped, then. Monica lifted her sight in my direction, a curious glint ignited within its indigo depths. My gaze shifted from side to side as I bit my lip, behaving like a guilty school girl with the knowledge of my secret visitor. Okay, I _might_ be mimicking one of the pornos I watched in a bit of an inexperienced rehearsal, but hey! Who's to say that that's the kind of thing that my hot handful of Welsh goodness wouldn't be into? Exactly, you _never_ know with that man. He's stoic, and sweet, and he smells _so_ good, and-I'm going to fuck him.

Wow, _THAT_ escalated quickly! 

"Really, now?" She asked, though her words hardly registered behind my excitement. I felt the need to jump for joy, so I did. I mean, there was no reason _not_ to. If anything, I owed it to the situation. Bouncing up and down where I sat, legs dangling over the edge of the mattress, I let my mind swim and cling to every detail that I could remember. His voice, those lips, those _hands._ I want him to take all of me. Come inside this time around, and have little to no mercy on my cherry as he pops the _Hell_ out of it. Hands tied above my head, teeth biting every inch of his pale, sweaty flesh that they can reach.

"Uh huh." I sighed, suddenly feeling so unbelievably eager for him to make his gorgeous debut already. Monica continued picking up after the remaining proof of our little get together, the tray of blowjobs from _ages_ ago resting upon a countertop. Calling my name.

"What with?" She bent to start placing bottles on the bottom shelf of Marshall's fridge, presumably listening despite her distant position. "You don't have work tomorrow," _I don't?_ "...and Mrs. Whipple's got Bowser." She straightened again, turning to me as she shut the refrigerator and leaned back against its front.

I mean, I guess I _could_ tell her. It's probably the neighborly thing to do, anyway. I should expect the noise to be especially audible tonight, so it might be best to offer a considerate heads up before things get freak and nasty one door down.

"I-"

_Knock knock knock_

My giddiness reaches an all time high at the sound emitting from the front door's opposite side, a little gasp surpassing my rejuvenated grin. _Please, be him._

Monica looked a little taken aback by the sudden force awaiting entry, though I knew she had nothing to fear. Standing with a haste that even she couldn't combat, I made to make a certain beeline for the door. Not expecting that line to appear so crooked, and hazy.

She put a stop to my venturing, off center form with an arm around my waist. "Wooah, slow your roll hon, I'll get i-"

"Benjamin? Are you home? Please, I believe something may have happened with Samara!" 

Oooh, it is him!

"Is tha-"

" _Charles!_ " I called, effectively putting an abrupt stop to Monica's query, along with Charles' second line of knocks behind that one, measly little door. Damnit, if I could just walk like I _always_ do and open that door-

"Samara?! Are you...I mean, why did you...what is-" Monica shook her head, _finally_ snapping out of her strange little stupor long enough to walk forward and turn the knob, doing away with the barrier between myself and my beautiful British gentleman. 

" _Hi, Charles._ " I swooned upon taking him in, relieved that he was here now, at last. We're home free! It's about time I swipe this outdated V-card of mine, now that I've met the one man in the world who I want to spend it on the most. Honestly, I can't even remember what's taken me this long. Me, you mean to tell me that you've worked under _this_ man for well over a year and a half yet never _worked_ under him? What on Earth for?!

His eyes were wide, face flushed as his gaze raked up and down my scantily clad body, reviving that Jell-O leg sensation and heated ache within my panties. Oh, _fuck yeah._

"Hello, Samara…" he greeted me, and that voice, plus those _lips_. This man is an unfairly delectable slice of Welshcake.

" _Have mercy…_ " I panted, abandoning Monica's embrace in favor of falling into his. Planting my palms flat against his pectorals, I had to fight my urge to whimper at how warm he is. How mesmerized I am at the lines of muscle and shapely bone structure that exist beneath his shirt. _Oh my God._

"Oh my God, oh, I left her alone with her phone!" Monica admonished herself from behind, startling me out of my high on Charles' cologne. Only for me to fall right back into it upon feeling his big, _hot_ arms wrap firmly around my shoulders. Squeezing me into him further with a sigh. _Yessssss._

"I'm _so_ sorry...Charles, Was it?" My friend carried on with her convoluted explanation, though I'd be the first to admit that I didn't retain a word of it. Totally and completely engrossed in the feel of him holding me again after all of these lustful, restless nights.

"...so, she must've texted you. She had a little more to drink tonight than she could handle, and I don't think she's used to it. I figured she'd be fine if Marshall and I kept an eye on her while she sobered, though, I guess I mucked that up big-time." 

She sounded embarrassed, and the weight of what I had done chose then to settle in my stomach. Guilt compelled me to try turning in Charles' arms, wanting more than anything in the World to apologize and make things right. I was surprised to find, however, that she was smiling. Infact, somewhere in those amazingly gorgeous eyeballs, there existed a definite smugness as she observed the way Charles held me. I looked towards him again with that, thrown for a loop at discovering the soft, amused grin upon his lips. Ah, those lips…

" _Charles, take me home…_ " I breathed, desire coursing it's way throughout my veins. Becoming me once more and leaking into my tone. The blush on his cheeks was unmistakable, emboldening me enough to lazily pull my hands into smoothing up his shoulders, bringing them to rest upon his nape. Nicely done, voice.

"Oh, could you? I hate to be any more of a bother, but I still have some straightening up to do around here, and it would be a relief knowing she's in good hands." 

Charles met my eyes, which were hooded and getting progressively sleepier. I pressed my front against his tighter, wordlessly pleading with him to comply. _Yeah, baby. Tuck me in so good._

"Of course. Do you have everything you need?" He asks, running his fingers through my hair as I giggle into his chest. So irrevocably happy to hear that he'll be joining me in my apartment. Alone. 

"Mhmn!" I confirm, planting my chin against his heart as I gaze up into those agonizingly stunning blue eyes. Oh, I can't hold back anymore! I've gotta know now, right here! This instant. 

"Can we have sex when we get there?" The words bubble beyond my lips, fingers tracing the cords of his neck with my question. He stiffens against me a little, though he doesn't pull away. Maintaining eye contact, his expression morphs to something pained, eyes tortured as they peer into mine. I frown at that, wanting to sulk with my disappointment.

"Ah, I would love to, if you were in the state of mind to ask me under no influences." He explained, cupping my cheek. On the outside, I pouted. The sentiment was undoubtedly sweet, and _very_ Charles, but I wish these two would get off it already and see that I'm totally fine! 

"I didn't drink that much!" I insisted for the second time tonight, only to be betrayed by a hiccup seconds later. He bent down a touch, kneeling to hook an arm behind my knees and return to his full height with me in his arms. Making me feel like a princess, in spite of my cranky demeanor. "Careful, Bunty. You're starting to sound like someone who did in fact drink that much." 

He turned, prepared to haul me into the neighboring apartment when my eyes caught on that taunting little tray once more. Gasping, I tapped his shoulder in rapid little beats, demanding his attention.

"Wait wait wait! Do you want a blowjob before we go?"

  
FIN.

**Author's Note:**

> All rights and credit should be directed towards Mongie, creator of the Webtoon Let's Play. Be sure to check her out on Instagram, (@mongrelmarie), and read Let's Play!


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